


Mistletoe Macchiato

by edgy_fluffball



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Holiday Fluff, mistletoe kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgy_fluffball/pseuds/edgy_fluffball
Summary: Enjolras is looking for a place to sit and work. He witnesses something that gets his blood boiling.





	Mistletoe Macchiato

**Author's Note:**

  * For [N_Pluto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/N_Pluto/gifts).



> Hey Syd, I finally finished your vague Coffee shop AU prompt :)

Enjolras was craving a large cup of coffee by the time his lecture ended. As Professor Lamarque let them out of the lecture hall, he wished every single one of them Happy Holidays and made sure to point out the ugliest Christmas jumpers in the room. Enjolras packed his notes, pens and water bottle, putting it all in his bag before making his way towards the door.

‘Wonderful lecture, sir,’ he shook his hand, ‘looking forward to the next term and the next months of working for you.’

‘Don’t say that too loud,’ Lamarque gave him a smile, ‘you might end up with another handbook proofread on your hands. There is one on the way, my dear.’

‘Thank you for the opportunity, professor. It would be an honour to work on it with you,’ Enjolras nodded sharply, ‘will you be at the department’s Christmas party?’

‘I will be there, my boy,’ Lamarque smiled, ‘make sure to get something to eat between now and this evening. Also, a little birdy told me you are running on the fourth cup of coffee already.’

‘Sir, with all due respect – Combeferre is a traitor for telling you. I am a functioning human being, nothing more should be of any importance.’

‘As long as you get to enjoy your life whilst you are young. Remind me of the posters for the January literary society in the office when you come in next time. We need to start advertising as soon as possible since we don’t have the whole of December to make noise and remind people that we do something.’

‘Consider it done, sir,’ Enjolras readjusted his bag over his shoulder and nodded a last time with a smile, ‘Merry Christmas!’

‘Merry Christmas, see you in the new year.’

Enjolras left the lecture hall with his bag over his shoulder and a stack of papers under his arm. Lamarque allowed him to mark them with pencil before he decided on the final verdict, taking some of his professor’s workload off his shoulders.

He went to the coffee shop at the corner, the only independent one remotely close to the university. They had decorated the windows with the tackiest glittery ornaments he had seen so far before Christmas, fairy lights and fake snow, three good reasons for Enjolras to walk past it and utter something about micro plastic and a waste of money. On this afternoon however, he decided to go inside and check out what Courfeyrac had meant when he said that the place contained unexpected treasures.

It was warm inside, Enjolras slipped past a few tables and found a space in one of the corners. He sat down and set his bag down on the chair next to him before pulling out the papers Lamarque had left for him on his desk before the lecture. Next, he dug his favourite pencil out of the depths of his bag, pushed it behind his ear and cast his eyes down on the first paper.

It did not take long until he was interrupted and distracted by the most obnoxious sound that could have interrupted his studious after-lecture working period: the shrill, cackling laughter of a girl who tried to impress someone or overdid a slightly awkward situation. Enjolras looked up and over at the counter where two baristas moved around each other to fill cups and mugs with coffee and hot chocolate.

The perpetrator of the annoying laughter was indeed a young woman, Enjolras estimated her age at twenty years. She had thrown her head back and still blurted out snorting laughter every few seconds. A few others, friends, probably, surrounded her and watched the barista who prepared a drink in front of them. Enjolras noted the dark mop of unruly curls under a dark green beanie and the strong arms that poured coffee, syrup and milk into a mug. He had rolled up his shirt sleeves and wore the apron tight around his body, moving graceful like a dancer along the counter.

He recognised him from Jehan’s last poetry reading, he had sat with Feuilly and Bahorel for most of the time before moving on to drinking with Courfeyrac. Combeferre had even introduced him. Grantaire, if Enjolras remembered correctly, was a student but he could not recall what he read. The bartending could hardly be more than a side job.

Grantaire seemed focused on the drink he made, Enjolras looked up above the counter instead, reading the board and what was written on it in beautiful handwriting, ‘Today’s offer: back by popular demand – _Mistletoe Macchiato_.’ Someone had drawn small pictures around it, Enjolras saw mistletoe, holly, candy canes and a gingerbread man. The small drawings looked delicate and detailed, the talent was clearly visible.

He shook his head. Anyone would know that mistletoe was poisonous and should not be an ingredient in a caffeinated beverage, advertising with such a hoax should be looked into. The paper in front of him could not capture him enough to stop watching Grantaire as he set down the cup in front of the young woman.

What came next surprised him. The girl leaned forward, resting on the counter, and pressed her lips to Grantaire’s. Enjolras felt surprise surge through him. He was almost certain that Grantaire had mentioned being both single and gay when they met. Maybe he had misunderstood him in a moment of wishful thinking.

His attention returned to the counter over the next minutes. Grantaire seemed to prepare more and more of the _Mistletoe Macchiatos_ , judging by the amount of people who pointed to the board.

Enjolras shook his head again because he thought he might have missed something again. Another girl had walked up to the counter, ordered a _Mistletoe Macchiato_ and kissed Grantaire. Her friends giggled behind her and another one dashed to the counter to order her drink and grab the barista’s head to pull him in.

Grantaire did not seem comfortable behind the counter anymore. Enjolras could see how tense he got and pushed his chair back. He walked up to the counter, feeling righteous anger burning in his stomach.

‘Hey,’ he tapped her on the shoulder, ‘do you really think that is necessary?’

‘Uhm, Enjolras?’ Grantaire’s eyes darted from the girl to him and opened wide enough for Enjolras to see the green specks in his eyes.

‘Why would you do such a thing, he is clearly not comfortable –‘

‘Enjolras!’

‘I mean, what gives you the right to just go round kissing people, in your opinion?’

‘The board,’ the girl rolled her eyes at him, ‘duh.’

‘Enjolras, please,’ Grantaire sounded torn between amusement and embarrassment, ‘it’s okay.’

‘It’s not okay, you shouldn’t be subjected to this just because –, ‘ Enjolras’ look flicked up to the board again, ‘Mistletoe Macchiato invites you to share a kiss with your barista? Who invents shit like that?’

‘The idea was Courfeyrac’s, initially,’ Grantaire handed the young woman a blueberry muffin, ‘on the house, come back soon!’

He turned to face Enjolras again, ‘We ran it last year and it proved to be very popular. My boss decided to bring it back, none of us is forced to do it, we actually get a _Mistletoe_ bonus for today. Get a drink, kiss your barista, giggle a little at the ridiculousness – leave with a smile _and_ a hot drink.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Enjolras fumbled for his wallet, ‘shit, I probably lost you a customer right there.’

‘Don’t worry.’

‘Let me tip you?’

‘Only if you actually order something,’ Grantaire arched his eyebrows, ‘can’t just accept money out of the ordinary.’

Enjolras stepped back and looked up at the menu board with its christmassy drawings and tinsel wound fairy lights, ‘I shouldn’t make you work right now, should I? I feel horrible, I don’t have the moral ground to –‘

‘Come on, you have to get over this, you came over here with good intentions, after all,’ Grantaire leaned on the counter, ‘Why don’t you try the _Mistletoe Macchiato_ , though?’

Enjolras spluttered, looking for the words that were trying to leave his lips, the apology, ill-worded as it would have turned out to be. He felt the hot blush he had sported anyway move towards his neck, dipping beyond the collar of his jumper as he stood frozen to the spot.

‘That – I would like that, actually,’ he disgorged eventually, looking up again to meet Grantaire’s amused smile with something resembling certainty.

‘Your wish is my command,’ Grantaire turned away from him to fill a giant mug, ‘would you like some chocolate on top?’

‘Yes please.’

 The mug was placed in front of him, grated chocolate on top that resembled a twig of mistletoe in its form. Enjolras fumbled his wallet out of his pocket and handed Grantaire the first note his fingers grabbed. He looked at him incredulously for a moment before ringing the order up at the till.

‘Keep it, okay?’ Enjolras grabbed his drink and turned around.

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Grantaire’s voice could barely cloak the laughter lingering behind the words, ‘it’s a _Mistletoe Macchiato_ , after all.’

Enjolras blinked at him, brain unable to connect his words with the meaning. Grantaire had returned to his post behind the counter, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes. He looked more comfortable than before as his eyes flicked from the cup in Enjolras’ hand to his face.

He contemplated his options. The smile on Grantaire’s lips teased him, challenged him. His stance changed. The thought came quickly and he acted swiftly.

He closed the distance between them with a few steps and propped himself up on the counter in order to reach Grantaire. His lips tasted of coffee and a slight hint of fruit cake. Grantaire made a surprised sound that slipped past his lips at the impact.

Enjolras broke the kiss a moment later, stepped back and grinned carefully at Grantaire with pursed lips. His lips tingled with the sensation and a part of him felt paralysed.

‘That was fun,’ he giggled and touched his mouth as if his fingers had only just realised what he had done.

Grantaire looked at him with heated cheeks. He seemed ever so slightly out of breath as he nodded, ‘We should do that more often.’

Enjolras’ breath hitched as Grantaire interrupted himself. He seemed to regret his words immediately, turning away and grabbing an empty mug to polish it.

‘Hey, don’t just turn you back on me after saying a thing like that,’ Enjolras knocked on the counter, making Grantaire jump, ‘Especially not, if it’s something as pleasant as that. Don’t knock it, ‘til you try it!’

Grantaire did not face him again, instead, he waved at his colleague, ‘Taking a break. Enjolras!’

He rounded the counter and followed him into the corner where Enjolras set down his _Mistletoe Macchiato_. They sat down across from each other.

‘Don’t knock it, ‘til you try it?’ Grantaire shook his head, ‘that doesn’t sound like the collected student assistant Courfeyrac described.’

‘You talked about me with Courfeyrac?’

‘You were mentioned,’ Grantaire blushed, ‘You kissed me.’

‘You are changing the subject,’ Enjolras grinned, ‘but yes, I did.’

‘Why? You were halfway back to your table, already.’

‘Maybe I changed my mind. You can’t just disregard tradition,’ Enjolras smiled, ‘a mistletoe, no matter what form it comes in.’

Grantaire smiled back at him, ‘It’s still there. But this time, I don’t hand it to you. This time it is yours to share.’

Enjolras toyed with the mug in front of him, moving it slowly over the table top, closer to Grantaire, ‘Have you tried it yourself?’

‘No, actually.’

‘Try it now.’

Grantaire lifted the mug and sipped. His expression changed, softened and broke into a wide smile, ‘It tastes better than I thought it would.’

‘I also think that you should kiss me now,’ Enjolras cocked his head, ‘since I offered you a mistletoe now.’

‘I think I agree,’ Grantaire leaned closer over the table, one hand extended towards Enjolras, ‘I also have to go back to work in a moment.’

‘Then make it count.’

Grantaire leaned even further and pressed their lips together again above the steaming mug of coffee. When Enjolras leaned back, he felt his lips tingle again and had to take a breath before shaking his head softly.

‘God, I love mistletoe!’


End file.
